


Home doesn't have to be a white picket fence house...

by Vague_Shadows



Series: Found It All On My Own [2]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alex Manes Deserves Nice Things, Alex Manes Loves Michael Guerin, Family, Family Dynamics, Found Family, Gen, Michael Guerin Loves Alex Manes, POV Alex Manes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:27:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24921541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vague_Shadows/pseuds/Vague_Shadows
Summary: Thanks so much for all the love on the last part. It was the encouragement I needed to take the time to write out the rest of my headcanon for this found!family dynamic I love to explore.Endless thanks to Strangeredlantern for the beta read, as always.Hope y'all enjoy
Relationships: Alex Manes & Walt Sanders, Michael Guerin & Walt Sanders, Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Series: Found It All On My Own [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1803487
Comments: 20
Kudos: 127





	Home doesn't have to be a white picket fence house...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Strangeredlantern](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strangeredlantern/gifts).



> Thanks so much for all the love on the last part. It was the encouragement I needed to take the time to write out the rest of my headcanon for this found!family dynamic I love to explore. 
> 
> Endless thanks to Strangeredlantern for the beta read, as always. 
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy

Once he’s parked his car and turned off the engine, Alex takes a few moments in the car to focus on just breathing. He reminds himself that it’s just a conversation after all.

But there’s no denying that it’s a very important conversation.

With a resolved sigh, he grabs his backpack from the passenger seat and makes his way across the dusty yard full of scattered scrap metal and a few half-reconstructed cars. He hesitates for just the slightest moment, but quickly recovers his nerve, knocking his knuckles deftly on the door three times, and sending a small flurry of paint flakes to the porch floor. On the other side, Alex can hear the sound of heavy footfalls coming to answer the door.

“If he ain’t out in the airstream, I don’t know where he is,” Sanders says as he swings open the door. “He’s not here though.”

“Well, actually, Mr. Sanders, I’m not looking for Michael. I came to talk to you.”

Sanders sighs, a bit of annoyance crossing his face. “I’m off the clock, son. If that alternator is already giving you trouble again, though, it might be time to consider—“

“I’m not here about the car. I just need to talk to you about something important, if you’ve got some time?” He reaches down in his bag and pulls out the bottle of Jack Daniels he brought in hopes of facilitating things. “And maybe time for a drink or two?”

“I hate to think what kind of ‘important talk’ you think I’ll need a fifth of whiskey to endure.” He crosses his arms and regards Alex with some suspicion. “You kids getting mixed up in trouble again? It’s been too quiet lately. I guess you’re about due.”

“Not trouble, just a talk and a drink. Nothing’s wrong I promise.”

Sanders studies him a few moments more, and sighs. “Come on in, then.” He swings the door open wide and waves in the general direction of the couch. “Have a seat. I’ll get us a couple of glasses.”

Alex makes his way to the ancient brown couch draped in multicolored knitted blankets and takes a seat on the edge to avoid sinking into the well-worn cushions. Isobel threatens to use the couch-and half of Sanders’ other furniture-for a bonfire at least once a month, swearing to replace it with superior, carefully designed replacements. But Sanders has absolutely no desire to hand over the interior design of his house to Isobel, however persistent she may be. 

Alex smiles, remembering her latest rant. “ _ I mean, honestly! He’s even worse than Michael! What would it hurt to spruce things up a bit? _ ” The memory sets him a little more at ease—he was here just last week, after all, gathered with his found family at the picnic tables Michael and Max built for the backyard, eating the burgers and hotdogs they cooked on the grill and sipping beers as the sun went down. 

“Okay, I’m too old for suspense,” Sanders says as he places the two empty glasses on the coffee table in front of Alex. “So start talking while you start pouring.”

Alex had it all worked out in his head. He knew exactly what he wanted to say. But now the moment is here he couldn’t recall the well-structured speech if his life depended on it. Instead, he has to settle for the stuttering start of, “Well, I wanted to talk to you because—well, you’re important to Michael.”

“Is this some kinda thank you for not firing him for keeping the worst hours of any mechanic west of the Mississippi? Cause you might need a bigger bottle…and he should probably be having whatever conversation this is for himself instead of making you get yourself all worked up and come do it.”

“I’m not worked up,” Alex counters, mortified to be so transparently nervous. “It’s just—an important conversation because you’re important to Michael and Michael is important to me, and, well, I’m proposing and I thought—it just seemed right to talk to you before I did.”

Sanders stares open-mouthed, apparently shocked to silence, and Alex goes on because he can’t quite quell the nervous rambling.

“I’m not asking your  _ permission _ but—your support, I guess? And just—in the interest of respect, because you’re the closest thing to a father—”

“Now, hold on just a minute with all this. I’m nobody’s  _ father _ . And nobody was Michael’s father, least of all me. That boy had to raise himself, and he did a damn good job of it.”

“You’re right,” Alex concedes, “but you still gave him the closest thing to a real home he’s ever had.”

“You sure you didn’t start drinking before you came over? Because you’re talking some crazy—“

“I mean it.” Alex meets Sanders’ gaze, refusing to give in to his attempt at levity, and keeping the solemnity the conversation deserves. “When we were kids—he always knew he could come here—that he could crash on your couch; that he had a job; that there was a safe place for him—whenever he needed it.” Sanders looks away, taking a sip of whiskey as Alex continues. “He told me how you helped him get the airstream—how you looked the other way when he took the wire to sell for some extra cash—that you let him keep hours that worked for whatever he was going through—let him use the tow truck to work off his community service he got busted for bar fights. You’ve been one of the few constants in his life for going on two decades. That’s no small role to play for anybody, least of all Michael Guerin.”

Sanders clears his throat, clearly trying to skirt past the emotion stirred by the words. “Okay, so, God knows why, but the kid likes junkyard life. And that’s why you want my blessing before you propose? Then, sure; of course; you got it.” He pours himself another round of whiskey and takes a slow sip. “Anything else?”

“No, that’s pretty much everything I came to say.” 

“So we can roll credits on this Hallmark movie?” 

The sarcasm and petulance are so much like  _ Michael— _ proving his point all the more _ — _ that Alex can’t suppress a small smile. “Yeah, we can roll credits, and I’ll just let myself out. Thank you, for supporting this but for all the other ways you support him—us—too.” He rises to his feet and slings his bag over his shoulder, honestly grateful the conversation is done and went well even if Sanders didn’t parse words in giving his approval. “Enjoy the rest of your night, Mr. Sanders.” 

“Alex?” Sanders calls just as Alex’s hand closes on the doorknob. 

He releases his grip on the door and turns back around. “Sir?”

“I feel old enough without you calling me ‘sir,’” Sanders grumbles.

Alex shrugs. “Just habit.”

“He’s better when you’re in his life, you know that? Stays sober more than he gets sauced. Doesn’t go picking fool fights he can’t win. Just about drives me crazy, whistling like a goddamn canary while he’s working. Daydreams with that dopey grin on his face that usually means he’s so distracted he’s about to forget where he’s at and slam the back of his head on the car hood he’s working under.”

Alex laughs outright at the memories the words summon—witnessing a couple of those uncoordinated head slams and shouting matches.  _ I swear to God, kid, if you whistle Red River Valley one more time I’m gonna lose what’s left of my mind!...You’re the one that taught me the song in the first place, old man!...Yeah, to play on the guitar and not to be whistled ten thousand times in a row, for fuck’s sake!... _

“You make him happy,” Sanders summarizes with a rare, earnest smile. “He’s a good kid—a good  _ man— _ both of you are. And you two  _ both _ deserve to be happy. Don’t think I missed the fact that Michael ain’t the only one who had to raise himself to be better than the adults he got stuck with. It’s a hard thing and you both did a helluva job. You should be proud of yourselves.”

Alex has to blink away unexpected tears at the declaration. “Thanks.” 

Sanders shrugs. “It’s the truth.” He takes another sip of his drink and waves at Alex to go. “Now, get on with the rest of your night so I can get on with mine.” 

Sanders reaches for the remote to turn on the television. Alex lets himself out and heads for his car. He sits for a few seconds before he cranks the engine, smiling with a bit of disbelief at how well things just went. He finds himself whistling along with the radio as he pulls out of the junkyard. Now one of the most daunting parts is taken care of, he just has a few more details to take care of before he can  _ finally _ propose.

_ Because we’ve worked so hard to get to this place where we’re good for each other… and we deserve to be happy... _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I have more headcanon for how this all plays out, so maybe there will be more parts? Things are so up in the air for me right now that I don't want to make promises and disappoint on them; with that said, I am having a lot of fun with this little concept, so who knows? 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!


End file.
